


Distress

by QuietlyImplode



Series: Rescue Me [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Mission Gone Wrong, Natasha Romanoff needs a hug, Torture, Whump Fic, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlyImplode/pseuds/QuietlyImplode
Summary: ‘Her heart rate is skyrocketing, her head is pounding and she can’t breathe.She can’t breathe, and she’s restrained.She can’t breathe and all she wants to do is curl in a ball, but that’s not happening. She feels prostrated  and coherent thought is slipping.’
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanoff & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Avengers Team
Series: Rescue Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984783
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Distress

“Clint?”

Her voice is hoarse, a familiar feeling but not one she’s had to deal with in a long time. It’s strange, she thinks, how familiar hurts can be and bring back memories of time gone by.

Awareness comes slowly, with her head pounding it’s hard to concentrate on anything. Natasha knows she’s losing time because she thinks the same thoughts every time she comes to again, and it feels like Groundhog Day.

“Clint?”

She senses it before she feels it, all of her knowing before she opens her eyes to see.  
She’s completely restrained.  
Arms.  
Legs.  
Chest.

The realization that there’s also one around her neck completely sends her over the edge. It’s not tight enough to choke her but if she moves she’s fucked. There’s no wiggle room.

Her heart rate is skyrocketing, her head is pounding and she can’t breathe.  
She can’t breathe, and she’s restrained.  
She can’t breathe and all she wants to do is curl in a ball, but that’s not happening. She feels prostrated and coherent thought is slipping. Even if she wanted to she can’t take a deep breath, the chest strap pushing down and seemingly feels tighter.

It’s distressing.

She prefers oblivion.

Digging her nails into her palm, hard enough to draw blood, centers her enough to start to work on slowing her breath and lowering her heart rate. It feels like it takes forever and she’s exhausted by breathing.

Natasha knows helplessness, this is it. She hates it.  
She can’t even remember how she got here.

Deciding to try again, she puts everything into it, she can’t see him but maybe he’s here?  
Yelling this time, she holds the sounds as long as she can. 

“CLINT??!”

She stops to hear water dripping but nothing else. She can’t even see where it’s coming from, the darkness is all consuming and eats everything in the room. There’s a crackling in her ear, her earpiece she thinks. They must have missed it. So faintly she hears his voice and almost sobs in relief.

“Tash?”

  
It’s not clear by any means, but it also tells her he’s not here with her. Which means she’s alone. She doesn’t know what would have been worse, is it better that she’s alone in this?

“Coming for you.” Clint sounds so worried.

“Tell us what you can?” Tony this time. Her boys.

She can’t tell them anything useful but desperately wants to let Clint know that they’ve restrained her, that she woke up like this and she’s scared. He’d understand, he’d know all the triggers associated with her current predicament. Assuming she survives this, she feels like she’s going to be on trigger-eggshells for who knows how long. Lowering her voice she tells them she can’t see anything and that she can’t move, she can hear the concern through the silence. She’s proud that she can keep her voice even, years of practice of showing no emotion. They let her know they’re tracking her earpiece. Right, starktec. The stupid genius gets some things right.

Flickers in the dark alert her that someone’s coming closer - reluctantly she opens her eyes. And immediately wishes she hadn’t.

The mask her captor wears is a white generic face mask. Their head is tilted and a gun with torch on the sight pointed straight to her face, blinding her. Natasha doesn’t know where to look - which is more dangerous; the person or the gun? She opts for the person and takes in any information she can behind the light (male, most likely, sturdy, right handed). He doesn’t talk but walks around her slowly, it’s intimidating and ominous. He backs away, without saying anything, without touching her, and she’s left with hope that maybe; just maybe the boys will be here before she cops bodily damage. When 3 more masked captors walk towards her, she knows she won’t be so lucky.

.

Natasha’s loud. She’s loud when she screams and she knows it. It takes a while to get her there but when it happens, she just doesn’t care anymore. Saving face? For who? Better to just let it out. Maybe they’ll stop. It feels like a considerable amount of time before they do. She can feel their sweat as they inject her with something and she’s blissfully unaware.

.

She feels hands, hands at her feet, at her wrists, her torso and around her neck. She startles horribly pushing her shoulders up, bucking against the hands that hold and the restraints that pin. He ears are ringing. She’s breathing hard. Her face is wet but she doesn’t know if it’s tears or blood. Probably both.  
They’re moving her?  
Wait no.  
She knows those hands.  
Clint?  
She attempts to open her eyes and sees his face next to hers, he’s in a squat next to her head and when the last restraint is released she can finally curl in a ball. She tries to make herself as small as possible.  
Touching her head to his, Clint whispers reassuring words, let’s her know they’re all dead. They’re getting her out of here.

Placing a gun in her hands, and wrapping her up in a blanket, Clint continues to talk her through everything that’s happening and happened since she went missing. He’s walking her out of here and she tries like crazy to hold onto his words; where they are (Morocco), what day is it (the 1st now, they’re no longer in September), how long she’d been missing (less than 8 hours). She loses time, pain overwhelming her.  
.

  
Regaining her senses is painful and Natasha can’t quite breathe, still feeling the rub of straps across her chest. She recognises that she’s now in the quinjet, there’s people here she doesn’t recognise. She is still holding onto Clint. She notices Pepper who has a look on her face. She can’t find it within herself to be embarrassed.

  
She doesn’t let go of Clint. He’s safety in a harbor. Natasha chooses to face away from everyone and clings tightly to him; face buried in his neck. He doesn’t even think to strap her in knowing the reaction. The smell of him grounds her and everything else is white noise. She hears words like infection, and medical but clinging tighter Natasha knows that Clint won’t let her go. Not right now anyway. She feels him brushing away her matted hair from her good ear, whispering to her that he can sedate her before medical if she prefers. Trauma on traumas, but after being held down for 8 hours she doesn’t want to lie down, wants to stay conscious and know what’s being done to her body. Shaking her head, and taking a deep breath, she catalogues her tremoring body.


End file.
